


Corrosion

by Scientia_Fantasia



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, that one mask fic everyone has to write etc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13280025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scientia_Fantasia/pseuds/Scientia_Fantasia
Summary: Wrench is weird. Marcus loves him. No 'despite' needed.





	Corrosion

It’s not that Marcus minded, really. It wasn’t something that was slowly eating away at him from the inside out, or else he’d man up and say something about it, because that’s how relationships worked. But, yeah--he could admit that there were times the mask put a bit of a limiter on the activities he wanted to pursue.

Wrench traced the lines of Marcus’ face with a steady hand that might have been surprising to anyone who hadn’t seem him solder components to a circuit board. His eyebrow, his cheek, his mouth--Marcus placed a hand over his so he could turn and press a kiss to the inside of his palm, more than happy with the surprised, giddy, affectionate half-giggle of exclamation this elicited from Wrench and its accompanying heart-eyes.

They did this pretty often. There was something about empty city rooftops that made it easier. Neither of them were that shy in the first place ( _fuck_  the FBI), but that didn’t mean navigating boundaries this early in their relationship came perfectly naturally. Especially with--well, yeah. Especially with the mask, and all the reasons Wrench needed it.

They did this often. So tonight, Marcus pushed just a little bit further.

“Wrench, man,” he said, almost apologetically, “no pressure, but--if you want me to kiss you, you’re gonna have to take the mask off.”

When it came down to it, it wasn’t any different from asking anyone else. The question was just, ‘can I kiss you?' and the mask didn’t change the fact that the answer would either be ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ And it sure as hell wasn’t going to change how Marcus would react to a ‘no.’

The mask’s eyes went wide, and glanced to the side for a split second. Wrench stared at him, then hung his head, displaying two flat dashes. “ _Yeah_ ,” he said, reluctantly. “I  _know.._.”

Wrench pulled his hand back to cross his arms, head tilting to the side.

“If you don’t--” Marcus tried, only to be immediately interrupted.

“ _Shh._ Sh, sh, sh.” He flapped a hand, still tucked into the crook of his arm, dismissively. “I’m  _considering_.”

Marcus laughed, gently, putting his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright.”

He waited as Wrench sat there, still. Then as he started tapping his feet on the ground, mask switching to the @ signs Marcus always took to be overwhelmed. He got up, and had the briefest pacing session ever, taking a few steps away before immediately coming back and sitting next to Marcus again. And scooting closer.

“Could you--” he started, voice strained with nerves. “Uh. Could--could you--” He huffed, mask briefly displaying his frustration. “ _Could_  you,” he said, very intentionally, “close your, eyes?”

Marcus did, without a second thought.

Everything went still. Then came the telltale metal clinking of Wrench undoing the buckles that held his mask on. He took a breath, clear and unmodulated, before returning his hand to Marcus’ face.

His next breath wasn’t so clear. It shuddered, and his hand twitched before leaving completely as Wrench jumped up and fled, muttering “ _Fuck”_  under his breath. “Fuck.  _Fuck..._ ”

Marcus opened his eyes to find Wrench already halfway across the rooftop, mask back in place. He stopped abruptly and sat down, pulling his knees to his chest. Marcus frowned, and got up to follow him.

“Hey,” he said, stopping a couple paces behind Wrench. “You good?”

“Yeah.” His tone of voice did not corroborate this answer. He picked at a hole in his jeans, and then abruptly reached back for the straps of his mask, removing it with quick efficiency. “Goddamnit, Marcus,” he said, mopily. He sniffled. “The salt’s gonna--corrode the fucking circuits.”

Marcus sat down next to him (and a little bit behind) as Wrench crossed his legs, set his mask down on them and pulled out a small tin that had served as a first-aid kit in a previous life. He took a second to tug one of his sleeves down and wipe his eyes before opening the tin and pulling out a few familiar tools; a lint-free cloth, a minuscule paintbrush, the world’s smallest bottle of rubbing alcohol...

Alright, it was still a first aid kit. Just...for a less organic patient.

Wrench’s steady hands blotted up whatever infinitesimal amount of moisture he’d detected, and he started brushing out pixie dust and wishes from the crevices. Listen, Marcus would readily admit that Wrench wasn’t the cleanliest of people, but that mask was  _immaculate._

“My bad,” Marcus half-apologized, smiling and trying to give Wrench an entry to talk about stuff without it being so, y’know,  _deep_. He didn’t take it. So he tried again. “Hey,” he said, softly. "I can go. If you need a second.”

Wrench elbowed him, maybe a little harder than intended considering he wasn’t looking where that thing was going. “I’m fine,” he said. It would have been pretty convincing, actually, if he wasn’t, y’know, crying. “You gotta stop being so nice, it’s making me weepy.”

“I dunno, man, I can  _try_ , but...”

He got a half-amused huff in return, which was good enough. He shifted closer, and leaned as much against Wrench as that porcupine vest would allow.

Wrench didn’t talk. So he didn’t push it. He was more than happy to watch his boyfriend methodically clean the inside of the mask, going over each inch of it with the absentmindedness of someone with a long-lived habit.

Then he held it out to Marcus.

“Hold this.”

Marcus stared at it, blinking at his brain tried to catch up with the situation. “Are--are you sure?” he asked, even as he reached out, slowly, to take it.

“I’m about to start the waterworks, so it’s probably safer with you.”

“Well...okay.” He didn’t know whether he should comment on that, so he didn’t. He just held the mask, tilting it back and forth to watch the light glinting off it.

“You think it’s weird,” said Wrench.

It wasn’t a question, so Marcus didn’t bother floundering about the answer. Hell, he might not have, anyways.

“Yeah, man,” he said, almost laughing. “You’re a weird guy.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” agreed Wrench, with a kind of far-off air. Like it was Marcus who had brought up the idea, and now Wrench was surprised to be agreeing with him. “Most of my friends wouldn’t say that.” He tilted his head. “Okay, most of the people I  _used_  to be friends with wouldn’t say that. I mean. I dunno--I only got okay with that idea pretty recently so maybe it’s good they didn’t. But I...”

He pressed the heel of his palm to his face, sniffling. “I hate I’m that fuckin’ sob story that cries when people are  _nice_  but--fuck, Marcus, you’re really good to be around. And then you do shit like...like  _that_ , and it just all. Happens.”

"Huh," went Marcus, just a quiet noise of acknowledgement. Any number of things to say came to mind; 'don't worry, I won't tell' or 'you're not a sob story' or 'you make it easy to be nice, Wrench, knowing you're happy makes me happy too.' But Wrench was fine and probably just wanted to stop crying at this point, so he let it go.  
  
Wrench sighed, long-suffering and dramatic. "Alright," he said, sitting up suddenly. "Enough of that." He pressed his sleeves to his face with a sense of finality, and then held out one of his hands to Marcus.  
  
Marcus moved to give the mask back--but stopped, and grinned, and slapped his own hand down in Wrench's instead.  
  
Wrench stared at their hands. Then, for the first time this entire conversation, turned and faced Marcus. His expression was--so much more complicated than anything that could ever be expressed by an emoticon on a mask, frowning and squinting and mouth curled up in a smile despite it all, a look of bafflement and affection and amusement.  
  
Marcus broke out into a grin immediately, fondness ballooning in his chest, and he caught the first signs of a smile on Wrench's face before he turned away again.  
  
"Alright, alright, here," Marcus said, laughing and holding out the mask with his free hand. Wrench took it and held it up to his face, pulling his other hand away from Marcus'.  
  
Then he paused. And, slowly, placed his mask face-up on the ground, moving his hand back.  
  
"Hey," he said, turning just ever so slightly towards Marcus. "Close your eyes?"  
  
He did. Without a second thought. 


End file.
